


ship out; shape up

by Anonymous



Series: walli's witcher fics [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fandom Bingo, Ficlet, M/M, Stubborn Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Temporary Blindness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:09:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29816499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: shape(noun)♥ spatial form or contour♥ the appearance of the body as distinguished from that of the face♥ the condition in which someone or something exists at a particular time
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Series: walli's witcher fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2209218
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26
Collections: Anonymous





	ship out; shape up

Despite his own predilection towards blunt honesty, Geralt can be a decent actor when need be—especially when the part he’s playing is, well. Himself.

He manages to fool Jaskier, at any rate, and they embrace and part ways as is custom for them, once the autumn chill sets in: Jaskier off to terrorize a fresh batch of students, and Geralt towards Kaer Morhen, to mark down yet another year wherein he has managed not to die.

The real trick this time will be actually getting there, more so even than usual—but he has Roach, and the rest of his senses, and coin enough to supply and carry them through to the last village en route, provided he conducts himself wisely. He knocks back half a dose of Swallow and tightens his cloak around his shoulders, trusting Roach to follow the beaten path until directed otherwise.

Geralt of Rivia is blind.

* * *

“...faceful of archespore venom. It’s temporary,” Geralt insists—mumbles, really, caught between Eskel’s hands, immovable and burning-hot on either side of his frostbitten face. 

“How long ago?” asks Vesemir, further ahead; one of Eskel’s calloused thumbs pets across Geralt’s cheek when he flinches.

Geralt had _not_ fooled the rest of the Wolves—not one bit, not for even a moment. “Three weeks,” he admits. “Nearly a month,” and Eskel inhales sharply and slumps, sliding his hands down the back of Geralt’s neck to draw him that much closer. 

Off in the corner, Lambert curses, and Vesemir says nothing at all.

* * *

“It’s _temporary,_ ” Geralt swears, one hand wrapped ‘round the meat of Eskel’s hip, where his fingertips follow the rhythmic flex of Eskel’s ass as he rides him. 

Geralt's other hand splays along Eskel’s front, thumbing through the fine trail of hair on his belly before sliding up to tweak a nipple, just to hear Eskel’s breath catch. 

It _is_ temporary, is the thing; Geralt is nigh certain of it. He’d been able to tell bright light from dark by the time he’d made it halfway up the mountain, and these days he can even see shapes—blurry, amorphous shapes, but still. It means he can see the dim movement when Eskel reaches out to cup a hand over Geralt’s eyes and chuckle at him, rumbling low and fond. “Rest, you goon. It really _won’t_ be temporary if you keep straining, and then what? The old man’ll have us all training in blindfolds every winter right up ‘til his own eyes go.”

Geralt grins into the blackness, arching into Eskel’s heat and tossing his head back to shake off the stray hand and catch it between his teeth. He gives Eskel a teasing lick and lets him have his hand back, so he can steady himself on Geralt’s chest when Geralt bucks into him again, _hard_.

Eskel groans, “Fuck, Wolf,” and doesn’t fight when Geralt manhandles him over, flipping their positions and mouthing at Eskel’s neck, savoring the salt of him. He slides back in with one long stroke. “Ah—!”

“You’re just sore you haven’t beat me yet,” Geralt says, thrusts falling into a steady rhythm. Eskel threads a hand through his hair and tugs. 

“I’m sore you think your head start means you get to brag.” He tightens his fist in Geralt’s hair, and lays a soft kiss against his temple. “Have a care.”

* * *

Jaskier screeches loudly enough that every head in the tavern turns to look at them, the first time he sees Geralt’s little round spectacles.

**Author's Note:**

> from the bikm february bingo challenge
> 
> think i just wanted to make geralt wear glasses teehee


End file.
